


Book VI: The Lovers

by DarkeShayde



Series: The Arcana: A Retelling [6]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Accidents, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Developing Relationship, Discovery, Exhaustion, F/M, First Kiss, Flirting, Healing, Magic, Memory Loss, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Near Death Experiences, Other, Plague, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 13:56:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16176470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkeShayde/pseuds/DarkeShayde
Summary: Following a red trail to the city’s aqueduct, Shayde runs into Julian again. After a close call and an escape from Palace guards, the two find a safe place to hide ... and talk. Shayde learns there is more to this mystery than she first believed.





	1. Red in the Water

A flock of birds take flight outside the window, startling me from a foggy dream. It takes me a moment to realize I’m slumped over a desk in the library, books and papers scattered all around me ... What am I doing here again? Oh. That’s right. This morning Portia told me I’d have the day to myself, on account of another of the Countess’ headaches. With no other tasks needing urgent attention, I’d decided to try my luck once more in the library, at the Doctor’s desk.

I sit up, rolling my shoulders with a groan, peeling a piece of parchment off my cheek, and then survey the mess before me ... Nothing. No extra traces of Julian, no information to tell me where he’s gone or what really happened that night. I’m no closer to the answer than I was before I took my accidental nap.

“Oh, come on. I really need in there!” Is that Portia’s voice, coming through the open window to the garden? It seems to carry over the treetops. It sounds like she is having an argument, though I can’t quite hear the other party involved. This sounds like just the excuse I am looking for. I stand slowly, stretching sleep from my limbs. I leave the library and make my way toward the gardens. I follow the sound of Portia’s voice.

“Please? You’re really trying my patience here.” Portia says, but to who? I’m not quite close enough to see yet. I keep moving through the lush, green growth.

 _“HOW_ _DARE_   _YOU?_   _DON’T_ _YOU_ _KNOW_ _WHO_ _I_ _AM?!”_ I hear the second voice as I get closer to the commotion, a shrill shriek that pierces even the heavy foliage still blocking my view. Who is that? I don’t recognize the voice. It doesn’t even sound human.

“Yes, yes, I know.” Comes Portia’s voice. “I swear to everything above that if you don’t move, I’ll have roast cockatoo for dinner!” Garbled branches are the only thing that obscures my sight now. I pass a final tree, and emerge into a small clearing. Settled squat in the middle of the copse is a squished looking cottage, surrounded by an overflowing garden. It looks very Portia-like and brings a small smile to my face right away.

“That’s it! Pepi, honey ... get ‘em!” Portia says. I turn to face where she is standing off to the side of the garden.

“Mow!” A seal point cat with a pudgy face and round eyes hops onto Portia’s shoulder, batting at a pure white cockatoo. The bird is pacing on the roof of a small work shed, shrieking and nipping at Portia as she tries to enter. A particularly well aimed swipe from the cat dislodges the cockatoo, sending it flying. It clips Portia’s head with its wing in its escape, muttering in anger at its undignified treatment.

“They’ll never forget me. They’ll never survive without me!” Well, that was strangely cryptic. My attention is quickly pulled from the fleeing bird and back to Portia.

“Oooo, that awful bird. He makes me so MAD, Pepi!” Portia fumes out loud before she notices my presence. “Shayde! Umm. Fancy seeing you here.” Portia’s cheeks color in embarrassment. She smooths her apron and quickly recovers, smiling at me.

“I’m surprised you managed to find this place. It’s a little off the beaten path.” She says.

“Where exactly are we?” I ask, though I have a pretty good idea.

“Oh, How rude of me.” She clears her throat, and then spreads one arm out to show off the cottage. “Welcome to Casa De Portia. My own little oasis on the Palace grounds. Just watch out for the graspgourds. They’re feisty today.” A curious vine grasps at Portia’s ankle as she says that, but she swiftly kicks it off.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” Portia says. “I must have been quite a walk to get here, huh?” She gestures to a bench carved out of a large log that rests against the exterior of her cottage. I pick my way carefully through the overgrown garden to the seat, stepping over several fantastic plants I don’t recognize. Portia picks up a rake from nearby and looks at me with a wry smile.

“You don’t mind me working a little while we talk, do you? I’ve got a lot of work in the garden today.” She asks. I shake my head. Now that I’m settled, I realize I have a million questions I want to ask Portia. She seems to know everything that goes on at the Palace. If anyone would have some helpful information, it would be Portia.

“Is the Countess alright?” I ask first, testing the waters as it were. Portia frowns, and straightens up from her work to give me a long, searching look. Finally, she sighs and nods, albeit slowly.

“I think she will be.” Portia replies. “To be honest, Shayde, things were getting a little hairy before you showed up. I’m glad milady chose to visit your shop, I think you could be just what we need.” Well, if I don’t get her brother killed first. Speaking of which ...

“So ... Julian’s your brother?” I ask next. If I wasn’t sure before, I am now. The naked shock and hurt on Portia’s face tells me all I need to know.

“Yes.” She finally answers. “I’m sorry about that scene outside your shop, you know. I was just ... surprised to see him there.” I think back to Julian exiting my shop, caught red handed breaking and entering _again_. I’m glad Portia didn’t show up just seconds earlier and see me running my hands all over her brother. I don’t know her well enough to guess how she would react to _that_.

“I was rather surprised, too.” I say instead.

“He’s got a real flair for the dramatic. I’m glad to see that hasn’t changed.” Portia tells me. I latch on the something else she said.

“You didn’t know he was here? In Vesuvia?” Portia shakes her head.

“Not until I saw him yesterday. What he thinks he’s doing here ... “ She trails off briefly. “I’m sorry I didn’t smack him a little harder for the trouble, honestly. He could be in huge trouble.” Thankfully the mood doesn’t stay heavy for long. Portia waves it away and squares her shoulders, giving me a determined look.

“I didn’t know you two knew each other.” Portia says. “That happen before or after milady hired you?” That question is accompanied by a cheeky wink. My cheeks flush under the scrutiny. I quickly decide honesty is the best policy. Knowing my luck, she would find out even if I tried to lie. Besides, what was I trying to hide?

“I first met Julian the night the Countess visited my shop. He arrived shortly after she left.” I say. I can still remember the glassy eyes of Julian’s mask, piercing my soul. Not something I care to see again, lurking in the corners of my shop in the middle of the night. Once was plenty.

“Hmm.” Says Portia. “That sure sounds like my brother. Why didn’t you tell milady?” The look on Portia’s face is not unkind, just curious. I feel as if I can tell her anything without consequence.

“I don’t want to condemn a man to incomplete information.” I say, carefully choosing my words. “If it’s my word the knots the hangman’s noose ... How can I send a man to death before I’ve investigated his innocence?”

“I’m glad to hear you say that, Shayde.” Portia says with a smile. “I don’t really know what mess Ilya’s gotten himself into, but ... If he has you in his corner, I’ve got the feeling everything will work out alright in the end.”

“Portia ... “ I begin. To have such blind faith put in me is ... hard to ignore. And it is going to be hard to live up to those expectations.

“Hmm?” Portia prompts when I pause.

“Thank you.” Is all I can say.

“Of course!” Portia says. “That’s what I’m here for, you know. Pep talks and expert gardening skills.” Suddenly, her expression becomes serious and slightly concerned.

“Oh my, it’s getting pretty late, huh?” Portia says. She peers overhead at the sun, already well past noon. Later light dapples the clearing, dancing on her face.

“I’d better get back to work, Shayde. But ... I’m glad you came to talk to me. I knew we’d be friends eventually.” I stand from my seat and bid Portia goodbye. With the sun at my back, I turn from Portia’s garden, head swirling with thoughts of Julian and his predicament. Strangely enough, I feel more at ease after speaking with Portia. The trials ahead of me seem less insurmountable.

I decide to take another route back to the Palace, wandering aimlessly through the ancient foliage. The farther I get from Portia’s cottage, the darker the sky above me grows. That’s strange ... it should still be mid-afternoon. Dread growing in the pit of my stomach, I turn deeper into the darkness, back towards my temporary home. My feet moving as if possessed. The Palace’s soaring spires emerge from the top of the trees, and the rest of the gleaming building soon follows. It looks magnificent from every angle. Thick foliage opens up to rolling fields, cut across with a nearby brook that serpentines through the grass. At first my eyes pass over it, before the color of the water registers and the sight fills my stomach to the brim with dread.

Red. There’s no mistaking it. Crimson stains the slow-moving stream, seeping into the banks. I scramble away from the banks and take a deep, steadying breath. With trepidation, I let my eyes follow the flow upstream. Seeping from the stonework of a forgotten corner of the Palace ... Poison. It would be quite easy to miss, hidden as it is. The brook is small, tucked away on a side of the Palace I imagine isn’t patrolled often. I turn back to the garden in horror, and realize the source of the darkness. Rot and decay. The trees at the edge of the field here are dying. It seems as if all the color has left them.

I swallow hard and resolve to follow the stream to its end. I have to know where it leads. With heavy feet I start the long journey beside its banks. Soon, vast open fields give way to rocky cliff side, and the stream transitions to a lemonstone structure. An aqueduct, one of the many flowing towards the city, designed to provide water for its many denizens.

From this high, balanced on the first stone of the unconventional path before me, I can see all of Vesuvia. Sprawling, chaotic, and vibrant. Swirls of smoke leave chimneys to dance in the air, twining together like lovers. It is a beautiful sight. Overhead, a raven circles me, swooping lower as I walk along the bridge. He seems familiar, somehow. The raven lands with a thud onto my shoulder, tilting its head at me. I look back at him, just as curious.

“Um. Hello?” I say. The raven opens its mouth as if to scream, but simply nibbles on the collar of my shirt instead. It’s beady eyes watch me warily. In fact, all its feathers are ruffled as if it was on high alert. I open my mouth to say something else, but a noise startles the bird into flight, leaving me alone once more.

Eventually, the aqueduct lowers and joins together with another waterline, both headed deeper into the city. I can see buildings around me now, the first signs of urban life, as I reach the outskirts. There’s doubt in my mind no longer. Crimson poison running from a forgotten corner of the Palace and through its grounds is in the city’s water supply. What did this mean for Vesuvia and her occupants? I am so absorbed in my own worries, I don’t notice right away that I’m not alone on the aqueduct.

“ ... Shayde?” I whip my head to the right, and see a figure slowly emerge into the dim light of a city lantern. Face half cast in shadow, standing in the aqueduct with me, is Julian.

 


	2. A Gift and a Curse

“Julian!” I say, in shock. He stands at the edge of the aqueduct, a dark silhouette framed by the light of the moon. Behind him, the city towers like a behemoth, a chaotic sprawl of buildings stacked atop each other. In his hands is a mask with a long, curved beak, the one he wore when he broke into my shop. The _first_ time. He turns it slowly, like he is contemplating what to do with it.

“Shayde.” He says. “Fancy seeing you here, hmm? Out for a night walk?” I could ask him the same thing. I can plainly see now that he is related to Portia. They look so alike, yet the height difference throws me off. He sighs, gaze dropping to the reservoir pool below us. The red of his coat reflects and refracts in the water, splashes of crimson dancing against each other.

“Me, I was just ... thinking. Funny, fickle thing, life, isn’t it?” Julian musses. This line of talk is so unlike how he normally is. Speaking of life though ...

“Should you be standing so close to the water?” I ask. I want to reach out and pull him back, but I hesitate. Julian gives me a confused look at first.

“What, this water?” He asks, pointing below us. “It’s harmless, Shayde, or as harmless as it can be. It won’t do anything to me. Or anything to anyone, anymore. Sure, a few people might get sick if they go for a swim, but ... “ He trails off in thought, melancholy.

“Isn’t it a miracle?” Before I can ask _what_ is a miracle, Julian goes on. “They went and figured it out. Or outlasted it. Wonder how they did it? It’s no matter, I suppose. Life finds a way, doesn’t it? The plague is over.” His face falls as he speaks.

“Ahh. And so is my career, just like that. Who needs a plague doctor if there’s no plague? It’s like ... Like a Count with no city! Or a barkeep with no drinks.” He extends his arms out in a flourish. A piece of hair falls into good eye, obscuring it. As much as I want to reach up and brush it away, I don’t want to interrupt him. I feel like he needs to vent and I am content to simply listen for now.

“So, here I am.” Julian announces. “Throwing away the last piece of a past I can’t reclaim. Pity, isn’t it? Ah well.” He glances down to the mask once more, and then lets it drop into the water below. Pale, slithering shapes move to swarm around it the moment it hits the surface.

“Julian ... “ I begin. I feel like I need to say something, but I’m interrupted. The raven from my earlier walk cuts me off with a ragged screech, nearly flying into us in its frenzy. It sounds and feels like a warning. Something Julian confirms with his next words.

“Guards afoot, Shayde!” Julian declares. “Look lively, we’d best make tracks.” We both leap into action at the same time, running farther down the aqueduct to reach the street. Julian, with his much longer legs, gets there first, turning back to me as I run. My foot slips on a wet stone, tumbling me backwards into the reservoir below.

Darkness engulfs me as I’m swallowed up by the deep reservoir. The impact knocks my breath away. I struggle against the cold water, kicking frantically to reach the surface. I’ve never been a particularly strong swimmer. As I thrash, something moves against me, slippery and sleek as it latches onto my side. I resist the urge to cry out, not wanting a mouthful of water.

“Shayde!” I hear Julian’s voice call. His hand grips my wrist as he tugs me out of the water, the undulating creature still attached to me. A vampire eel. I can see my blood moving through its translucent insides as it feeds. The sight makes me feel sicker than I already do.

“On the count of three. One. Two - “ As he speaks, Julian grips the creature behind its head, forcing its mouth to release me. He tosses it back into the water. “Three. Up you go, then. Easy now. I’ve got you.” I gasp for breath as I stumble away from the reservoir, sopping wet and slipping on the smooth cobblestones. Julian half-drags me as we run. I numbly watch my own blood stain the puddles I leave behind.

“Can you stand?” I hear Julian ask. He pauses in the shadow of a building to peer down at me. I struggle to hold onto his arm, shaking and tremendously dizzy. I’m incapable of producing actual words at the moment. He’ll just have to figure it out for himself.

“Right, foolish question.” He mutters. He nods as if coming to some conclusion, hefting me up and dragging me the rest of the way. Panting, we collapse in a wet heap in a narrow, deserted alley.

“Let me see that bite.” Julian says. My head bobs ambiguously. Whatever words I try to form are stuck behind my teeth. “I’ll have to take that as a yes.” Julian lays me down and carefully slides my torn garments up and away from my steadily oozing wound. I stare blankly at the stars above while his practiced hands work over my abdomen.

“The bleeding won’t stop.” Julian says, mostly to himself. “Damn.” He draws back with a look of displeasure and starts peeling off his gloves. My heart beat leaps at the sight of the murder’s brand, stark and irreversible on the back of his left hand. I can’t suppress a shudder as he lays the other hand, ice cold over my open wound.

“Hold still.” He instructs. I comply and hold still, focusing on wrestling with unconsciousness. “Deep breaths. This will only take a minute or two.” His marked left hand slips under my head to cradle my skull. Realizing that I’m not in any pain, a wave of profound relaxation comes over me. I can’t help my next words.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” I say, wanting to fill the silence. Julian lets out a bark of laughter, and presses a hand to my forehead, checking my temperature.

“If you’re well enough to joke, you’re well enough to sit.” He observes. He helps me sit up with a hand on my back, steadying me. My head swims with the change in altitude.

“At least you didn’t catch me breaking and entering this time.” Julian says with a grin before his expression darkens. “I’ll admit, I was surprised to see you in the neighborhood ... You’ve got some kind of luck.” I follow his line of sight to the aqueduct’s end, a chaotically cascading waterfall of red. It’s ... much higher than I’d thought. Swallowing thickly, I turn back to the Doctor. My eye immediately drawn to a magic mark glowing under the skin of his throat. It’s design looks ... familiar. An intricate, circular mark of many lines and shapes woven together. It reminds me of a compass rose. He catches me staring at it. A shadow passes over his countenance.

“Ah. Do you recognize your master’s handiwork?” He asks. I watch in morbid fascination as fresh blood blossoms under his clothing.

“This was his parting gift to me. A curse.” Julian tells me. “I’m able to take away bodily wounds, as you can see. And in return, I get to experience them for myself ... ugh.” He sways forward. I swallow at the sight of blood. Julian’s own blood. Now running freely down his torso.

“It won’t last, it never does. A curse from a witch who fears commitment. Then again, I’ve never been bitten by a vampire eel. This might be interesting.” He says with a rueful laugh.“Might be interesting, how?” I ask. He allows me to assist in peeling away his jacket so I can see the damage to his side.

“Well, fate seems to keep inventing new ways to test the limits of this body.” Julian replies. Once again, I can’t resist my next statement. The words come out before I even really think about them.

“Now that _does_ sound interesting.” I hope it is dark enough that he can’t see me blush. It looks like Julian wasn’t expecting that response from me.

“ ... Oh, it certainly can be.” He says, with a devilish grin. Suddenly, he goes still. We hear them coming almost a moment too late. The Countess’ guards, doing their rounds of the outer walls. Julian curses, pulling me into an alley nearby. His body presses against mine as we crowd into the the narrow alley, boxing me up against the wall. I can hear the Countess’ guards run by, and hope their eyes slide over us in the darkness. This close, I can see pain painted on Julian’s face. His eyes are fixed behind me, but as if he senses my gaze, they move to lock with mine. For a moment, we both stare at each other.

“Shayde – “ Julian begins. Just as he is about to say something more, we hear a thud from the entrance of the alley.

“Not the time.” He grumbles. “Let’s go.” He grabs my hand and tugs me out of the alley, breaking into a run. The city passes us by in a blur as we evade capture, weaving around buildings with ease. We’re moving so fast, I almost don’t see it. There, nestled between two tall buildings ... a garden. A thick padlock set in a rusted iron gate blocks our way inside. It would make the perfect hiding spot. Julian picks up speed, and my hand threatens to slip from his. If I’m going to act, it has to be now. I don’t know if he is listening right now, so I pull hard on his hand and tug us toward the garden. He quickly catches on to my intention, and helps me climb over the top of the gate. I land rather unceremoniously in my haste, and Julian drops down next to me with light feet. Just in time, I hear the guards run past as we slip into the cover of vines.

Julian helps me to my feet and dusts off my clothes as we catch our breath. The still silence of the garden swallows up any sounds from the street. I feel as if I have been transported to another realm. It looks like it has been abandoned for years, the plants left to fend for themselves. Ivy covers what must have once been beautiful, obscuring wise marble faces and savage stone beasts in velvety green leaves. We step carefully around roots that have overtaken the cracked stone floor, settling by a dilapidated fountain.

“Look at this place!” Julian says in quiet wonder. “Ha, that was some quick thinking on your part, Shayde. Looks like you’ve a knack for discovering hidden beauty.” He turns towards me and spreads his arm out in an expansive gesture, hand slipping from mine. I had not until then realized he was still holding onto my hand.

“I wonder how many parts of the city have fallen to neglect like this, hm?” Julian musses aloud. He makes his way carefully over to one of the grotesque statues, stepping over wild vines that block his path. I watch him with interest and not a little concern. His coat is still very bloody and his movements are not as quick as is normal for him.

“Ahh, and look at this brute.” Julian jokes. “Hello there, handsome.” He wraps an arm around the bull statue’s muscular shoulders, turning back to me with delight in his eyes. I can’t help but giggle at little at his antics.

“Dangerous looking creature, isn’t it?” Julian goes on, but I ignore that comment and try to bring up his injury again.

“Is that bite still bleeding?” I ask. I follow after him, trying to see if the bloodstain is still spreading on his jacket. Julian’s teasing voice temporarily distracts me from my mission.

“Are you worried about me, Shayde?” He asks. “You needn’t be. Perfectly alright, see?” He spreads his arms out wide, nearly knocking over the statue, and swears as he quickly steadies it. “I, uh. Ahem. Reflexes notwithstanding.” I must not look convinced, because he goes on in a less teasing tone.

“Really, it’s fine. Just a little bite, nothing I can’t handle. There are more dangerous things out there than eels.” He says, before another sudden shift in conversation. He is a master at giving me conversational whiplash.

“Ah. Hold still, Shayde.” He reaches slowly forward, and plucks a flower off of my shoulder. It must have fallen from the luminous trees above. It glows a bright, vivid blue in the dark, star shaped petals curling to a close as he touches it. He offers the flower to me, a quirk to his lips as he twirls it in his fingers. I reach out to take it, but Julian stops me, shaking his head and pulling it back just slightly.

“Ah ah ah. Careful, Shayde. There’s poison in these petals.” He says. I stare down at the fragile, unfamiliar flower in his hand. It almost has a jewel-like quality to it. Beautiful.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Deadly starstrand.” Julian replies. “A single drop of poison distilled from this flower could kill a babe in its crib. It’s killed tyrants and kings, innocent and guilty. It could topple entire empires with a careless hand.” He offers it to me once more, gazing eagerly into my eyes.

“Do you still want it?” What a strange question. I pluck the flower out of his hands, lifting it to my nose to smell. There’s something acrid to it, an underlying note of iron and sickness that stings the air. I don’t care for the smell at all. All beauty comes at a price, I suppose.

“You said the poison has to be distilled.” I begin. “Does that make it harmless to touch?” Perhaps a little late to be asking that, but no matter. I feel confident that Julian wouldn’t so carelessly hand me something that would kill me with a touch.

“Well, I wouldn’t eat it if I were you, Shayde.” Julian laughs. “But you’re right. It probably won’t kill you like this.” I let the flower drop towards the ground, and take a step forward. He catches it as it flutters down, grinning at me. Fingers brush against my ear as he tucks the flower behind it, touch lingering for a moment before dropping to my shoulder.

“It sounds like you’re not afraid of danger.” I say.

“Afraid of danger?” Julian asks. “Why, Shayde, I live for it. Positively enchanted by danger, I am.” A thought occurs to me and spur of the moment, I decide to test my theory.

“So, pain doesn’t scare you, either?” I ask. Julian shrugs.

“Why should it?” He asks in return. “In my line of work, you can’t be afraid of a little pain. One might say I have ... intimate knowledge of it.” Well, that is an invitation if I have ever heard one. I place a hand on his waist and take a step forward, pressing lightly at the wound. He swallows, and then grins at me.

“Oho. Are we dancing? I didn’t know you could. What, er. What’s your poison? Tango? Waltz?” He asks. I ignore the quip and take another step, pressing fully at the wound now. It doesn’t seem lethal. In fact, Julian bites his lip and makes a muffled noise. He takes a step back, hitting the crumbling wall behind him, and gives me a desperate look.

“S- so, not the waltz then?” He stutters out, trying desperately to maintain his composure. “Pity, I’ve been known to cut a rug – “ Does he ... like the pain? His fingers dig into my shoulder, gripping me like a lifeline as he slides down the wall a bit.

“Shayde – “ Julian begins. We’re interrupted by the sound of loud footsteps quickly approaching. A scowl passes over Julian’s face.

“Right on time.” He growls in annoyance. “Let’s leave before our guests arrive, hm?” With the garden’s sanctity compromised, Julian takes my hand roughly and tugs me out to the street once more. He leads me deeper into more questionable areas of the city, taking wild turns to evade our pursuers. He seems to know this area like the back of his hand - or at least, all the relevant escape routes. We approach a dilapidated residence at the outskirts of the district. A few chickens peter around its yard.

“In we go, Shayde!” Julian announces. Without waiting for me to respond, he clamors through an open window around back, pulling me in after him.


	3. Laying Low

We creep through the window into the humid hut, ducking under a row of brass bells just close enough to make them hum. Julian hauls me in, steadying me at the waist, arm lingering around me as his gaze travels the room. The hut is wide, the ceiling low. His hair is dry now, brushing the ceiling and showering his shoulders with dirt.

“Mazelinka?” Julian calls. “Sorry to drop in like this, it’s the guards ... Mazelinka?! Huh. I don’t know if she’s home.” I’m thoroughly confused at this point.

“Mazelinka?” I ask.

“Yes, a dear friend of mine. Sharp as a ... ” Julian pauses for a beat. “ ... as a hook, great at cards. Huh, she’s definitely not in. But we can weather the storm here, until it blows over. She’s never out long.” I nod and look around the room some more. It’s a curious place to be sure.

“Say, are you ah, cold? Your clothes are still wet.” Julian asks, but I shake my head. It’s warm, though the body next to me is pleasantly cool. I feel fine.

“No? Good, I wouldn’t want you coming down with something.” Leather fingers curl under my chin, his unbearable smile suggesting something. Suddenly the little deep-set door rattles, a tut from outside as it’s shaken from the crooked frame.

“Ilya! ... Did you come in the window again, you slippery boy?” A small, quick figure shuffles through the doorway, swathed in a thick shawl and a ragged coat. It is impossible to tell her age, only that she isn’t young. Her brown hair is streaked with grey, but her rich brown eyes are bright and clear. I get the impression that there is more than meets the eye with her. Julian straightens too quickly, striking his head against the ceiling with a wince. Undeterred, he sweeps down to offer his arm, dipping for a kiss on the cheek.

“Ah, Mazelinka, aren’t you a sight for the sore eye!” Julian declares. “Love the shawl, is it new?” That gives me some pause. It clearly doesn’t look new. Perhaps this is him trying to get out of a lecture about climbing though the window, as it seems to be a habit of his.

“You know it isn’t.” Mazelinka says. “I thought you might be about when I saw the guards ... oh?” My host lowers her hood, blinking at me through wisps of wiry hair.

“Who do we have here?” She asks, curiously.

“This is Shayde.” Julian says. “A ... new friend of mine.” He hesitated before describing me. Curious. I smile at the small woman and offer a tiny wave.

“A new friend, eh? Make yourself comfortable, Shayde.” Our host moves into the kitchen, squawking at the state of the yellow flowers by the window. We must have trampled them on our way through the window. I had not noticed until right now.

“Ah, Mazelinka, I did that, I take full responsibility for that, I wasn’t thinking, and I - “ Julian begins, but Mazelinka cuts him off.

“Don’t fit through the door, I know. Fetch the round pot for me, will you?” She says. Julian blinks, nodding and moving to a cupboard set in the dirt wall behind him. There is a sway in his step, and when our eyes meet, his smile is weary. My first thought is the bite he took from me. He said it wouldn’t last, but ... His gaze is lingering strangely on me, dazed. As Julian reaches for the cupboard, I place my hand over his. His hazy eye flutters wide open. I move him aside, and grab the pot myself, fixing him a firm stare.

“Show me the bite.” I demand.

“The ... ?” Julian stutters. “Oh, the bite. You want to see?” With a furtive glance to our host, he unfastens his jacket at the bottom and lifts the bloodied shirt underneath.

“What do you think? Good as new?” He asks. The skin over his waist is perfectly smooth. I can hardly tell where the bite was in the first place.

“Are you impressed?” Julian asks me. “It’s your master’s magic, shouldn’t be a big surprise for you.” Have I ever seen Asra use magic like this? While I try to recall, the cauldron it whisked from my grasp. Julian spirits it over to the fireplace, and I follow, curious. That’s no ordinary pot. Mazelinka rolls a dry sprig of some purple herb between her thumb and fingers, sniffing it and clicking her tongue.

“Ech, worrywort’s gone stale.” She says. “I’ve got more in the garden ... pardon me, Shayde.” Our host grabs a rusty knife and weaves around us to the door, humming, leaving us alone together. The moment she’s left, Julian slumps over against the counter, leaning heavily on one arm. I find myself wanting to hurry to him to be sure he is okay.

“Huh, who would have thought that a bite like that would take so much out of me ... “ Julian says. “Not to belittle your bite, mind you, I’ve treated a few dozen, unfortunately ... You’re the first to make it. Well, you and I.” His gaze is soft in the flickering light, until a shadow crosses his brow, and he looks away.

“They’re not aggressive, the eels. And they wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the ... the Count.” He adds. The Count. The murder. A chill runs down my limbs, reminding me why we are in hiding. Julian stills, watching me for a reaction of some kind. Until I know, I will never understand him. Until I ask.

“Did you really do it?” I question. I don’t have to explain. He knows, I can tell as his wide eye fixes on the floor, pulse jumping at his temple. His gaze then goes to the ceiling, but not to me. His chest shakes with low, nervous laughter.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m always asking myself that question.” He begins. “When you say it ... It’s much less irritating. Did I really do it ... if I told you the truth, would you believe me? I know I wouldn’t. But I’ll let you decide for yourself, Shayde.” He steeples his fingers, leaning over his long legs to finally look me in the eye. The look on his face tells me he is serious and means to convince me of this.

“Did I do it ... did I murder the Count? What if I told you I don’t remember?” He ask me, one eyebrow quirked. He ... doesn’t remember? For all he or anybody knows he _did_ murder the Count, but somehow the memories are gone? This just made my job at the Palace that much harder. I don’t even know which side I should be on anymore. I don’t get long to dwell on the thoughts though.

“Ilya, you’re barely on two feet.” Mazelinka’s voice startles us. I had not realized she was back. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Ah, well, ever since the curse I don’t need it the way I used to, dear.” Julian says with a grin. I don’t like that answer and apparently neither does Mazelinka.

“Says who? Your eye is rolling. Curse shmurse.” She answers. He drops his gaze to the floor, to my feet. It trails up to my face, and Mazelinka raises a steely brow. Nothing, it seems, escapes her keen eyes.

“I’m fine, really. Haven’t felt this good in a while.” Julian replies. She sighs, tossing a handful of sand into the cauldron and stirring. She clearly doesn’t believe a word he is saying.

“I’ll be very happy for you after you’ve rested. Go on. Shoo.” Mazelinka orders. Julian hesitates.

“ ... Just until the soup is done.” He says. His eye wanders over my features in a slow, thorough path, as though fixated. Or maybe it’s exhaustion.

“Just until the soup is done.” Mazelinka muses. “Well? Will you survive that long without her?” I could see Julian’s ears turn bright red at her words. Mazelinka sure doesn’t pull her punches. She just says what she thinks.

“I’ll survive.” He mutters. He moves towards a nearby curtain, pausing as he passes me to slide his hand into mine. A strangely sentimental gesture from the good Doctor.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Shayde. You’re in good company.” He says. His fingertips brush my palm as he pulls away, disappearing behind the curtain. I turn and share a look with Mazelinka, and she cracks her well-worn knuckles with a billowing sigh.

“He won’t do it. He’ll be pacing around less someone pins him to the bed.” She begins. I can’t help the thoughts and images that pass through my mind at that phrase. “One of us needs to keep an eye on the brew though ... hmmm.” I know before the question leaves her mouth where this is going. Mazelinka is one clever matchmaker and I find I am happy enough to play along. I’m not sure where this sudden attachment has come from, but it feels like fate.

“Shayde, you’re the guest. Would you rather watch him, or shall I?” My host arches a brow and watches me expectantly over the bubbling pot. I know the answer she is hoping for and I sigh as I debate with myself.

“I’ll keep an eye on him.” I answer almost grudgingly. Mazelinka grins, baring silver teeth, and gestures to the partition.

“I’ll be watching the brew, then. Won’t be long.” She says as I stand. My ears burn as I pass her, crossing to the curtain and ducking inside. I find Julian seated on the edge of the bed, loose, clean shirt hanging from his shoulders, gloves off, and boot in hand. He is fumbling with the other boot when he notices me, giving me a wily smile that gleams in the candlelight.

“Shayde, did you come to tuck me in?” He asks. The clasp on his boot clicks back just then, and he kicks it away with a yawn

“I won’t last long, I’m afraid. I know when I’m beat. If there’s one thing I know, it’s my own body.” Julian explains. “When it comes to healing, it takes as long as it takes ... Whether I like it or not. Isn’t it amazing? Stab me in the back, and I’ll walk it off. But healing will take everything I’ve got. Can’t escape it.” We are startled apart by our host as she peeks past the curtain, bearing a steaming bowl. For someone as short and wide as she is, Mazelinka moves as silently as a cat. It is somewhat unsettling.

“Drink.” She orders Julian and she hands him the bowl before turning to me. “Shayde, will you be spending the night as well?” Julian splutters into the brew at her words, eyeing it warily. I feel like I’m missing something, until Julian speaks.

“Oh, it’s _that_ kind of soup?” He scowls at the liquid as if it has personally offended him and his ancestors.

“I won’t let you run yourself into the grave.” Mazelinka states firmly. “You’re still human, Ilya.” He mumbles in protest, but Mazelinka sighs and takes the bowl, only to place it in my hands. The look of surprise on Julian’s face is priceless.

“Shayde, would you be a dear and see that he drinks?” She asks. “I have a feeling he’ll take whatever you’re giving.” Julian snorts.

“What for?” He asks. “I’m not even feeling tired any mooormmnn ... “ He yawns, wiping at his eye. What a liar. Our host pats me on the arm and departs, leaving us alone in the candlelight. It’s Julian that breaks the silence.

“She makes that soup when I can’t sleep. Bless her. Even when I’m beyond stress, raving, beating my wings against the walls ... don’t know what she puts in it.” Julian says. I imagine I might know what she put in it, if I paid attention. I peer into the shimmering golden brew. Julian waits obediently, eyeing the bowl in my hands. Warm light gleams off his tongue as he licks the seam of his lips.

“And ... it tastes fantastic.” Julian says. His gaze trails down my face, fixing dreamily on my mouth. An invitation ... or a distraction? I move to sit on the bed, bringing the bowl to his lips. He pulls back a little, chuckling, looking down his nose at the golden drink.

“I don’t have to sleep just yet. We could stay up and, you know ... Get to know each other a little better. What do you say?” I say nothing and tilt the bowl upwards, silencing him as he starts to drink, huffing through his nose to breathe. His eye upon me is thoughtful, considering me. Without fuss, he drains the bowl down to the last drop.

“Ah, yesss.” He says. “Very smooth ... better than I remember.” He lets out an airy, satisfied sigh as I place the bowl on the small table next to the bed. Turning back to him, I follow the path of his tongue as it tastes the corner of his mouth and slips behind grinning teeth.

“Mm, would you ... like a taste?” Julian asks. Cautious fingers curl around the back of my neck, and I willingly lean towards him as he leans up to meet me. A kiss, I realize fully as his eye slides shut, and my pulse starts to quicken. His mouth caresses mine, fine lips moving elegantly, drawing me in, making me respond. The taste is smokey, complex. It fills my senses, and it leaves me wanting more. So much more.

“That’s enough for now, you two.” I hear Mazelinka’s voice say. Ears burning, I disentangle from Julian’s arms, sitting back on the bed and wiping my mouth as subtly as I can. Mazelinka throws a sheet over Julian’s flustered form, and turns her twinkling eyes to me.

“Shayde, I trust you’ll be sharing the bed? Unless ... You’d rather sleep in the hiding hole? And I’ll cozy in with him.” Mazelinka offers. Hiding hole? I didn’t notice one, but that’s not surprising and kinda the point of a _hiding_ hole. Still flushed, Julian clears his throat, leaning back on the bed in a casual pose, gaze still hot on me. I’m tempted, for no other reason than to annoy him, to sleep elsewhere. But curiosity has always been my undoing.

“I’ll sleep here with him.” I say. Mazelinka smiles, patting Julian’s hand as his weary face splits in an embarrassing grin.

“There you have it, dear.” Julian says. “Don’t worry, I’ll be an absolute gentleman.” I snort out an almost silent laugh, but say nothing else. Mazelinka notices anyway.

“Oh, will you? Shayde, hold him to that.” She says with a wink.

“Absolutely. Hold me however you want, Shayde.” Julian quips, grin still firmly set in place. Our host rolls her eyes, swats at him, and gathers his things from the floor as she moves to the partition. She treats him almost like her own child. An over six foot tall child.

“And get some sleep already!” Mazelinka calls over her shoulder.

“That I can’t promise you.” Julian calls back. I flush as the curtain swings closed behind her, settling in place as her footsteps shuffle away. We’re alone. Julian waggles his eyebrows at me as he moves to make from, splaying his long form artfully on the twin bed.

“Look at that, Shayde. Nice and spacious.” He tosses back the sheet, welcoming me inside. I feel almost jittery as I slide into bed. What am I doing anyway? He is a fugitive. One I am tasked with catching. Well, I caught him, but not quite how I was expected to. I doubt the Countess would be impressed. Julian’s voice interrupts my thoughts.

“I hope I’m not coming on too strong ... ohh, I’d love to make something real with you. If we had more time ... “ Julian trails off. A bittersweet expression crosses his face, thick hair falling over his brow, hiding the deep lines there. I reach over him to brush the strands away, and he stiffens slightly at the unexpected touch.

“Shayde ... ” Julian says. “Don’t mind me. Just rambling ... I must really be exhausted.” A gentle touch at my jaw, and he draws me in to met his lips again, lingering as if he expects me to disappear at any moment.

“Goodnight, Shayde.” He says as he turns away. I watch his profile, the rise and fall of his chest, and then I reach for the candle at the bedside table. With a flick of my fingers, the light is out and we are plunged into a peaceful darkness.


End file.
